The Eyes are the window to your soul
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban
Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour; And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends.
Why, what's the matter, That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?